Cormorant Crag | Page 2

dull boy.'"
"Jack!" cried the Doctor, with his face wrinkling up, as he tried to look very severe. "Yes Jack. But you're not Jack: he was some common fisherman's or miner's boy, not the son of a medical man--a gentleman. There, go and dress that wound in his trousers, my dear."
"And you won't send me off to school, father? I do like private study at home so much better!"
"Humph! I don't know whether you're aware of it, sir, but you've got a very foolish, indulgent father, who is spoiling you."
"No, he did not know that," said Mrs Burnet, smiling, as she looked from one to the other proudly. "And it is not true, is it, Vince?"
"No, mother, not a bit of it," cried the boy.
"And I feel sure that father will not send you away if you try hard to master all your lessons with Mr Deane."
"Well, it isn't your father who is spoiling you now, Vince," said the Doctor. "There: I'll give you another six months' trial; and, here-- which way are you going?"
"Round by the south cliff to look for Mike Ladelle."
"Ah, I daresay he's shut up in his father's study hard at work!"
"No, father; I've been up to the house, and they said he had gone out."
"There, go and get mended; and you may as well leave this medicine for me at James Carnach's. It will be ready for you by the time your mother has done."
"Yes, father--I'll come," cried the boy; and he hurried out of the surgery.
"Ah!" said the Doctor, "you undo all my work by your foolish indulgence."
Mrs Burnet smiled.
"I should be very miserable," she said, "if I could feel that all you say is true."
"But see what a reckless young rascal he grows."
"No, I cannot see that, dear," replied Mrs Burnet. "He is a thorough, natural boy, and I am glad to find him so fond of outdoor life."
"And not of his studies?"
"He works very hard at them, dear; and I'm sure you want to see him grow up manly."
"Of course."
"And not a weak, effeminate lad, always reading books over the fire."
"No, but--"
"Let him go on as he is, dear," said Mrs Burnet gently; "and show him that you take an interest in his sports."
"Spoil him more still?"
"No: encourage him in his love of natural history."
"And making the place untidy with his messing about. I say: by the way, have you been at that bottle of acid?"
"I? No, dear."
"Then he has, for some of his sham experiments."
"Mother!"
"Coming, my dear," cried Mrs Burnet, in answer to the call; and she hurried into the house, leaving the Doctor to write out the directions upon a label, so that Jemmy Carnach--fisherman when the sea was calm, and farmer when it was rough--might not make a mistake when he received his bottle of medicine, and take it all at once, though it would not have hurt him if he had.
"Nice boy!" muttered the Doctor, as he made a noose in a piece of twine and carefully tied the label to the bottle; "but I wish the young plague had been a girl."
At that moment Vince was standing with one foot upon a stool, so that the knee of his trousers was within easy reach of his mother's busy fingers, while the bright needle flashed in and out, and the long slit was gradually being reduced in extent.
"Mind, mother! don't sew it to the skin," he said laughingly; and then, bending down, he waited his opportunity, and softly kissed the glossy hair close to his lips.
"I say, mother," he whispered, "don't have me sent away. Father doesn't mean it, does he?"
"I don't think so, my dear; but he wants to see you try hard to grow into a manly, sensible lad."
"Well, that's what I am trying to do."
Mrs Burnet took hold of her son's none too clean hand, turned it over, and held up the knuckles, which seemed to have been cracked across, but were nearly healed.
"Well, I couldn't help that, mother," protested the boy. "You wouldn't have had me stand still and let young Carnach knock Mike Ladelle about without helping him?"
"I don't like fighting, Vince," said Mrs Burnet, with a sigh; "it seems to me brutal."
"Well, so it is, mother, when it's a big, strong fellow ill-using a small one. But it can't be brutal for a little one to stick up for himself and thrash the big coward, can it?"
"That is a question upon which I cannot pretend to decide, Vince. You had better ask your father."
"Oh, no! I shan't say anything about it," replied the boy, giving his short shock-brown hair a rub. "I don't like talking about it. Nearly done?"
"Yes, I am fastening off the thread."
There was a snip given directly after by a pair of scissors; Vince gave his leg a shake to